Slightly Homosexual
by pandanarchy
Summary: Mostly fluff. John and Dave are being huge dorks. John begins to accept that he may have certain feelings for his best bro. The line between friend and boyfriend becomes blurred, but he's pretty sure he's ok with that.
1. Chapter 1

Straining his ears, he searched for the solid thud of the car door. The engine came to life with a soft growl, and the gravel crunched in hushed whispers as the car reversed out of the driveway. He breathed out a sigh of relief he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. With his lanky arms crossed behind his head, he flopped back onto the lumpy mattress and traced the cracks in the ceiling with half-lidded eyes.

He was roused from his daydreaming by a combination of two things: the incessant beeping coming from his computer, and the smoky smell wafting under the door. He sat up with a jolt, suddenly remembering something his Dad may or may not have mentioned about a cake being in the oven. Stumbling over his sheets, he dashed downstairs and was instantly blinded by a massive cloud of smoke.

Coughing and flailing uselessly, he managed to feel his way along the wall to the fire extinguisher and sprayed the crap willy-nilly about the kitchen. One hand covering his nose and mouth, the other still spraying in hopes of putting the fire out, he shuffled across the tiles until he found the door. He threw it open, almost falling out in the process.

He yanked the stubborn windows open too, and fished a frying pan out of the cupboard. The kitchen wasn't his natural habitat, so he had no idea where any utensils lived. After filling the frying pan with water, he turned his attention back to the oven, spilling three-quarters of the water on the way. Most of the smoke had cleared now, but the charcoal cake continued to crackle with flames. He tipped the water on it, and successfully invented steam.

The steam apparently didn't appreciate its own creation, flooding his eyes with tears and forcing him to cough and splutter all over again. Sniffling, he surveyed the damage to the kitchen – god awful smell, ruined cake, irreparable oven. Luckily, the fire hadn't spread too far. He knew his Dad would probably be most upset over the cake anyway. Maybe he could pour some icing on it, and he'd never be any wiser.

Tramping back upstairs, he grimaced at the beeping his computer was still emitting. In all that commotion, it hadn't thought to do a single helpful thing. He threw himself into his desk chair and madly slammed at his keyboard. Someone was trying to message him.

14:03 turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

TG: hey egbert you busy

TG: seriously

TG: cause now is prime fucking time to be watching one of your lame movies

TG: hurry up or ill start rapping again

TG: dont make me do it

TG: ill do it

TG: im doing it

TG: the fridge is empty

TG: wanna eat but bro wont feed me

EB: ok ok! just stop!

TG: where have you been

EB: i don't want to tell you

TG: im just going to assume you were doing something dumb

TG: as usual

EB: i was not!

EB: the cake caught fire ok?

TG: that falls under the category of something dumb

EB: what do you want?

TG: apart from burning the house down are you busy

EB: not really

EB: i was just going to watch National Treasure

TG: great so youre not busy

TG: can i come over

EB: sure i guess

14:17 turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

John Egbert scrolled through his Chumroll, disappointed to find that nobody else was online. He set his mood to bored and waited for his slow computer to finally shut down. He spun in his chair and smiled to himself, gazing fondly at the movie posters that circled around him in a blur of awesomeness.

His chair tipped and his arms swung through the air, looking foolish, but managing to keep him stable. He considered spinning another few times, for good measure, but decided against it. Dave was coming over, and he didn't think a trip to the emergency room would be that much fun.

Sighing, he began tapping his fingers on his desk. On top of being incredibly bored, he was also sweating like mad in the unusual heat. Sinking low in his chair, he huffed and allowed his eyes to trace the ceiling cracks on this side of the room too. Man, his ceiling sure had a lot of cracks.

At the sound of the loud knock on his front door, he leapt up from his chair and dashed downstairs for the second time that day. He threw the door open and, without thinking, threw himself at Dave. "Hey, Dave!" he exclaimed excitedly, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

Dave hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by how damn happy John was to see him. He smirked, and wrapped his arms around the boy. "Hey, Egbert," he greeted. He pulled away and cleared his throat, regaining his cool composure. "You gonna stand there blocking the door all day, or what?"

"Oh, right," John flustered, hurrying out of the way. "Make yourself at home, I guess," he invited, locking the door behind Dave. Twiddling his thumbs, he continued to beam at Dave. "Can I get you a drink or something? I'm pretty sure we have apple juice."

Dave hid a grimace. He'd never admit it, but apple juice just wasn't the same anymore. Not after Bro's last prank. "Whatever," he said with a brief shrug, immediately sagging onto the couch and planting his feet on the coffee table. He stared at John behind his shades. The moron was just grinning at him in the doorway. He snapped his fingers. "Hop to it, Egbert," he ordered teasingly. "I'm dying of thirst over here."

John disappeared into the kitchen (which still smelt kinda funny?) and Dave fished around the couch cushions to locate the remote. Flicking through the channels, he concluded that absolutely everything on TV was total shit. Seriously, couldn't they at least play good reruns? Who was he kidding, good reruns didn't exist.

"Here," John announced, smiling and placing a glass of apple juice on the table in front of Dave. He nudged the blonde with his foot, getting him to make room on the couch. "Ooh, Becker is on!" he exclaimed, reaching for the remote to turn the volume up.

Dave held the remote just out of the boy's reach. "Oh, no you don't," he said. "We are not watching this crap." He turned the TV off and tossed the remote on the table, almost spilling his juice. It didn't matter; he probably wouldn't drink it anyway. He smirked as John crossed his arms over his chest, his signature move when he was pretending to be pissed off. He wasn't fooling anybody.

Sighing, John unfolded his arms. "So, what do you wanna do now?" he asked. Dave just shrugged, not being very helpful. "Well...I got a new computer game for Christmas," he suggested.

"You told me about it," Dave replied, rolling his eyes. "It's only one player, remember? And it sounds pretty lame, anyway. I'm sure you were the prime, if not sole, contributor to the company's annual sale count."

John laughed. He thought the game was cool, but he didn't even care that Dave was dissing it. If he was being honest with himself, which he always tried to be, he hadn't seen Dave in a while, and he'd really missed him. It was one thing to pester him, but another to hear his snide comments in person.

"I guess we could watch a movie?" he offered, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He already knew what Dave's answer would be, and his mind wasn't working fast enough to defend his DVD collection, so he quickly added, "At the cinemas."

"You're paying," Dave agreed instantly, smirking. He chuckled inwardly as John's shoulders sagged. He hadn't had to pay for a single movie ticket yet. He knew that deep down, John didn't mind, otherwise he probably would have swallowed his pride and forked out the money himself. But John didn't need to know that. He could keep believing whatever he wanted to.

"Fine," John agreed, standing in a stretch. "Just let me get my wallet." He momentarily disappeared upstairs to search his room for it. Jogging back downstairs, he collided with Dave, clattering to the floor in a very ungraceful pile of limbs and apologies. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, D-" He cut off midsentence, suddenly aware of how close he was to Dave. His heart was beating so hard, he wondered if Dave could hear it.

Any snarky comments fled his mind, and he gulped. Under the weight and heat of John, he was almost being crushed, but he didn't mind it. John's uncertainty didn't pass by him unnoticed either. He struggled to contain his thoughts and plastered a smirk on his lips. "Fuck, you're clumsy."

"I-I'm sorry, Dave," John stammered, still unable to stand. A gentle nudge from Dave had him in motion, though. He clambered to his feet, reaching out a hand to help Dave up too. Dave ignored the gesture and stood up on his own, brushing the dust off his jeans. "Should we go now?" The blonde nodded, already headed for the door. John locked it behind them, and followed him down the driveway.

His bouncy, excited attitude returned, and he walked circles around Dave, grinning and chattering about comics. Dave, with his hands shoved in his pockets, maintained that his comics were far better than anything John had ever read. The houses they passed all looked the same, but that was suburbia for you. It didn't take them long to reach the main street, but they'd worked up a sweat by then.

Dave heaved the glass door open with his shoulder, and held it for John. The cool air that greeted them was a relief and they both sighed. Approaching the counter, John asked for two tickets to – probably something awful, Dave wasn't even paying attention. Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, he dug an elbow into John's side to get his attention. "Got much money left?"

John handed him his ticket, and pocketed his own, shaking his head. "Just enough for one drink, if you don't mind sharing." He knew Dave had the money to get his own drink, but he also knew that he wouldn't, for whatever reason. He didn't mind sharing, and to his surprise, Dave didn't put up a fight either. He bought them a frozen coke and they joined the line in front of the cinema doors.

Shuffling along with the crowd of noisy people, they trotted down the narrow aisle and claimed seats somewhere in the middle. The lights dimmed and the curtains split to reveal the screen, but nobody stopped talking, since it was only the previews. "I've been dying to see this," John said, grinning at Dave, who looked uncomfortable in his seat. "What's up?"

Dave looked at him seriously, and it made his stomach flip – in a good way, he guessed? It kind of made him want to take Dave's shades off so he could see his eyes. But it also made him a bit nervous. "Egbert," the blonde said slowly. "Is this a Nicolas Cage film?"

He felt his ears turn red. "Uh, yeah it is," he answered with a sheepish smile. Dave covered his face with his hands, grumbling and muttering something about 'I hate you.' He'd known that would be his response, but he'd brought him anyway. He didn't really know why. Maybe he should have chosen a movie that Dave would have liked. He guessed it was too late now.

Dave just shook his head slowly, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to watch the screen as the opening scene began. Jesus, oh god no. He just could not take Nicolas Cage seriously. He groaned loudly, gaining himself a disgruntled glance from the guy directly in front of him. He really couldn't care less. For Egbert's sake though, he decided to keep his comments to himself. The kid would probably cry if he got banned from the cinemas.

"Psst," John hissed suddenly, leaning close to Dave. There was a break in the action, and he realised it wasn't necessary to lean in quite so close, so he pulled back slightly. Only slightly. "How can you see the screen properly with your shades on?" he whispered.

Dave gave him a wry smile. "I can't," he replied. "Probably a good thing, too." The action was picking up again, and Mr Cage was back on screen, glistening as he ran down a dirt track. An unexpected explosion made the audience gasp.

Beside him, John actually jumped in fright, his hand instinctively seeking out Dave's. A smirk leapt to his face. If he hadn't been a Strider, it might have been a genuine smile, but that wasn't the case. He cocked an eyebrow at John, but the boy was glued to the movie, his mouth slightly agape as his hand squeezed Dave's.

Fortunately, the Cage survived. The tension in John's shoulders relaxed and he realised he was holding Dave's hand. He let out a small squeak and immediately let go, clasping his hands in his lap and avoiding Dave's gaze.

But he was starting to get kind of thirsty, so he reached for the frozen coke that was wedged in the cupholder between them – at the same time as Dave. Their hands bumped. He bit his lip. How cliche. Dave gave him a sideways glance that he didn't understand, before snatching the drink up. He drained a fair amount of it, and then handed it to John, who hesitated, staring at the straw. The straw that had just been in Dave's mouth. Maybe he should have gotten two straws.

Dave snorted at him, partially amused. It had been John's idea to share, after all. Why was he freaking out about it now? "Just drink it, Egbert," he mumbled, staring blankly at the screen. He snuck a peek in his peripheral vision. He watched John take a tentative sip, and then apparently forget all about the straw-sharing deal, as the tell-tale slurping from an empty cup soon followed.

Feeling refreshed, John shoved the now empty cup back in the holder, but Dave caught his hand before he could return it to the safety of his lap. He looked at Dave, surprise shining in his eyes even in the dim lighting. Dave answered by twining their fingers together and not taking his eyes off the screen. John gave his hand an experimental squeeze and he swore he saw Dave's lips twitch.

Dave found himself thinking that the rest of the movie might not be so bad. As long as he could stop himself from hurling at Nicolas Cage's dialogue, that was. Finally, the credits began rolling. Dave tried to resist the urge to start whining. He failed miserably. "Man, that movie sucked."

John began to blush as the lights turned back on, hastily untangling his fingers from Dave's. "I really liked it," he said thoughtfully. "I think that the–" Dave cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Oh, come on! It really wasn't that bad." The blonde simply shook his head and stood without another word, gesturing that John should follow suit. They shuffled out of the cinema and pushed through the heavy doors out into the heavy heat.

"Ugh," John complained, a layer of sweat already shining on his skin. He opened his mouth the elaborate on how much the heat sucked, but promptly snapped it shut again. He knew Dave probably wasn't the right person to be complaining to. After all, he used to live in Texas.

"Good move," Dave commented, catching on to John's train of thought. Glancing at his phone, he noted that it was mid-afternoon. "Mind if I stay over?" The words felt weird in his mouth. Inviting himself over was something that used to happen fairly regularly. John's place was safer than his; Bro wouldn't hesitate to strife even if he had guests. But he hadn't been able to hang out with John much lately, thanks to exams and all that wonderful crap. It kind of felt like he'd slipped out of that groove. He almost felt rude. Almost.

"Sure," John agreed without a moment's hesitation. He grinned his dorky grin, and even though he knew his face was still red, he clumsily slid his hand into Dave's. Dave stared at him for a second and not for the first time, he wished he could tell what the blonde was thinking.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I wasn't expecting this fic to get much attention, wow. Thanks so much, guys! And thanks to LimeCrayons and Meyanni for the reviews!**

They walked back in a silence that was far from awkward. Despite the heat, their hands remained linked, sticky and nearly glued together from sweat. John listened to the steady thrum of Dave's feet on the sidewalk, comparing it to his own faster footsteps. Damn, why did Dave have to be so tall?

Digging around his pocket for his keys, he unlocked the door and lead Dave inside. He scooped up the house phone on the way, planting his butt on the couch and dialling his Dad's number. "Hey Dad," he greeted when the call connected. "Yeah, the cake's fine." He glanced at the kitchen and bit his lip. Dave sniggered at him. He quickly made plans to ditch the cake and tell his Dad they ate it all.

"Dad, I was wondering if Dave could stay the night?" he got straight to the point to avoid further discussion about the cake. He wasn't very good at lying. He nodded in response to his Dad's question, and then realised that he couldn't see him. "Yeah," he replied. "Yes, ok, we will. Love you too, Dad."

"Get me something to eat," Dave demanded. "What kind of housewife are you, Egbert?" He smirked as John's face tinged red. It was just too easy to make that kid blush. "And before you ask, no I don't want cake," he added quickly.

John rolled his eyes and dragged himself into the kitchen, retrieving a plate of leftover pizza from the fridge. He imagined Dave knocking the plate out of his hands if he tried to serve it cold. He knew Dave wouldn't really do that, but he pressed a few buttons on the microwave and chucked it in anyway.

The kitchen appliance beeped incessantly and John emerged with a plate of pizza. Not bad. Before the messy haired boy even had a chance to sit down, Dave was stealing a slice. His stomach rumbled in anticipation and he was glad John had never been one for close observation. He basically inhaled the first slice, reaching for another.

"You're not eating?" he mumbled, nudging John with his elbow and polishing off a third slice. John shook his head and carefully sat the plate down between them. "Don't like sharing?" Dave teased, referring to earlier.

John definitely got the reference, his face flushing red again. "Shut up," he muttered, snatching the TV remote from the table. "Hey, Becker's still on!" he exclaimed excitedly, kicking his shoes off and tucking his legs beneath him.

"I already told you – no," Dave said, finishing the final slice of pizza and moving the plate to a safer position on the coffee table. As he made a grab for the remote, John attempted to replicate Dave's earlier move of holding it out of reach. Dave chuckled lightly, his long arms making it more than easy to snatch the remote from John regardless. "Nice try, Egbert."

John grumbled to himself, his brain working overtime to think up a snappy comeback. He turned to give Dave some sass, but the look on the blonde's face made him forget what he was about to say. "What?" he demanded, wriggling uncomfortably under the stare.

The kid really didn't know how cute he could be sometimes, sulking over not being able to watch Becker. From anyone else, that would be utterly pathetic, but from John, it was nearly enough to stop Dave from changing the channel. No, he had to stop thinking like that. If he started being extra nice, even John would pick up on the difference and demand to know what was wrong with him.

With a vague shrug, he flicked through the channels. Of course, there was still nothing good on. Yawning, he stretched a long arm along the back of the couch and looked at John thoughtfully, poking his shoulder teasingly. "Show me that game, I guess," he suggested. "I'll give a running commentary on how awful it is."

John squirmed, pouting a little bit. "It's not awful," he said defensively, clenching his fists beside him. "Seriously, the graphics are actually pretty–" He cut himself short, feeling like he was about to start babbling. He felt his face burning again, but smiled at Dave's quiet laughter. "Alright," he agreed anyway, not knowing what else there was to do.

His hand closed around John's and he pulled the smaller boy up off the couch, granting him a smirk. With John in tow, he made his way upstairs and barged into his room. It was just as messy as he remembered, with all those shitty posters covering every available square inch of the walls. He rolled his eyes and shoved John into his wheeled chair, which scooted along the ground and bumped against the desk before John had time to react. He perched on the edge of the bed and slapped his knees, pretending to be impatient. "Hurry up then."

Planting his feet firmly on the ground, John swivelled in his chair and booted up his computer, absent-mindedly running a tongue over his teeth. When his desktop finally loaded, Pesterchum automatically launched. He moved the curser over the x button, but was distracted when a window flashed open.

18:37 turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

He turned to give Dave the most quizzical look he could muster, but the blonde just twirled his fingers, indicating that John should read the message.

TG: is this the part where we make out or what

John almost fell out of his chair, a small squeaking noise coming from his throat. Behind him, Dave remained dead silent, leading him to believe that it wasn't a joke this time. He remained staring at his computer screen, straining to watch Dave's hardly moving reflection. It wasn't that he didn't want to turn around, it was more that he couldn't. He'd never kissed anyone before. Did he want Dave to be his first kiss? Well...yes. Wait, did he really? Uh, yes. Yeah, he was pretty sure that he did. As weird as that might have sounded. But he didn't want to make an idiot out of himself. Which was almost a sure thing.

TG: egbert turn around  
TG: or ill turn you around

John's whole body was trembling, but he slowly spun in his chair, keeping his eyes glued to his feet. The floor creaked as a shadow passed over him and Dave's feet entered his vision. He gulped and looked up as Dave leant down. "You're scared," the blonde murmured. A statement, not a question. John knew he felt slightly scared, along with about a thousand other emotions that were more difficult to decipher.

"No," John argued weakly, giving him the smallest of smiles. Dave smirked down at him. "Dave, I just don't know if I'm–" His words were muffled as Dave closed the distance between them, pressing his soft lips to John's. John's eyes immediately closed, but he didn't know what to do so he just kept still.

Dave moved his lips slowly against John's, hesitant at first because he thought the boy might pull away. Relieved to find that John didn't resist, his left hand tangled its fingers in John's hair, greedily pulling him closer. To his surprise, John cautiously moved his own hand to the back of Dave's neck, willing him not to pull away either, and bunching the fabric of his collar.

Smirking into the kiss, Dave bumped it up a notch, parting his lips slightly and sliding his tongue along John's lower lip. He felt the boy's shudder and it made his heart hammer. But then John broke away, his hands pushing lightly against Dave's chest. Dave took a step back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'm not a...homosexual," John said, sounding kind of unsure. He avoided Dave's gaze and folded his arms across his chest almost protectively. Dave was no Rose, but even he could see that there was something else going on here.

"You sure about that?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked. He sighed and moved to close the gap again, but John's chair scooted away, hitting the wall again. "Fine," he said, trying not to snap. He fell back on the bed, limbs stretched out, and sighed heavily. Man, was this frustrating.

John's brain was whirling. He stared at Dave and tried to sort his thoughts out. Apparently staring at Dave had the opposite effect, though. His eyes followed the way Dave's shirt stretched over his stomach, revealing the bare skin that made John ache in an unfamiliar way. He reined his thoughts in. He'd had thoughts like that before, but he'd always tried to ignore them.

But now, after that kiss, maybe there was no point in trying to run from it. He knew he liked Dave. And it seemed like Dave liked him. But at the same time, he willed himself not to be gay. He didn't want to go to school and be beat up every day. He didn't want to disappoint his Dad.

He balled his hands into fists and stared at his lap, unaware that he was crying until the warm tears dripped down his chin and splattered on his shorts. He involuntarily sniffled, and moved to wipe his eyes. He jerked in surprise, realising that Dave was beside him again, with a concerned look on his face.

"Egbert," Dave murmured, patting John's hair down and holding his gaze. "It's alright." He'd never been that good at consoling people, so he usually tried to avoid uncomfortable situations like that. But it was John that was upset, and he wanted to make him feel better. Actually, he was pretty sure he'd do almost anything if it would make John feel better.

John shook his head, his eyes stinging from the overflow of tears now. "I just don't know what to feel right now," he confessed, another sniffle escaping him. When he was younger, his crying was loud and obnoxious, but he'd learnt how to cry quietly in recent years. He was thankful for that now, not wanting to look even dumber in front of Dave.

"I can't tell you how to feel," Dave said quietly. His breath catching, he carefully wrapped his arms around John, drawing him close. John buried his face in Dave's chest, soaking the fabric with his tears. Dave felt John trembling in his arms and instinctively held him tighter. He wished he had the right words to say. But he didn't, so he figured it was better to say nothing for now.

"Thanks, Dave," John whispered finally, disengaging from the embrace. He removed his glasses to clean them and looked up at the blonde, unable to stop himself from smiling. He could see that Dave was trying his best to smile back.

"You alright now?" Dave asked, cupping John's face with his hand. He mentally kicked himself, realising that that probably wasn't helping. He moved to pull his hand back, but John held it there, still smiling.

"Yeah, I'm good," John answered honestly. With Dave's comforting touch, something in his mind clicked into place. His emotions still baffled him and he blushed heavily, but he decided to do what he wanted to do in that moment. His hand grabbed a fistful of Dave's shirt and yanked him down, their lips colliding. He felt his eyes prick with tears again, but it wasn't for a bad reason this time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm updating fairly regularly at the moment, but I've got assignments to work on so there might be a bit of a gap between this chapter and the next. Thanks to everyone who followed, favourited and reviewed!**

Dave prodded John in the side with his foot. "You gonna keep sitting all the way over there?" John was seated on the very edge of his bed, legs dangling over the edge. The TV in the corner of the room glowed dimly, but Dave wasn't paying much attention to it. He could think of better things to be doing than watching a DVD from Egbert's tragic collection.

"Huh?" John murmured, blinking his eyes a few times. It wasn't even that late, but he was already feeling kind of tired. He fiddled with the remote in his hands, turning the volume down a few degrees. "What's up?" He twisted to look over his shoulder at Dave, who was leaning against the wall and hogging the majority of his bed.

Dave's lips formed a hard line. He suspected that John was avoiding sitting near him because of what happened earlier. He didn't want to push the case and make John cry again, but his patience was running fairly thin. He hated not knowing where he stood with someone. "Get me something to eat," he ordered, changing the subject anyway.

"What? You just ate," he argued, grimacing. They were going to run out of food and then his Dad would be wondering who ate the furnishings. With an overdramatic sigh, he stood, giving Dave one last glance before heading downstairs.

Making as much noise as possible to emphasise the great lengths he was going to, he threw a couple of sandwiches together. Putting the condiments back where they belonged, he sighed heavily. He kept pushing the thought out of his mind, but it was still there, pressing at the back of everything else. Sooner or later, he knew he'd have to face it. And what better time to face unwanted thoughts than in the kitchen?

He braced his hands on either side of himself and pulled his butt up onto the bench, clacking the cupboards with his heels. He clicked his tongue and twiddled his thumbs, as if he could stall himself. Another sigh escaped him as he exhaled.

"What's up?" Dave echoed his earlier question, suddenly appearing in the doorway with his arms over his chest. John couldn't penetrate those shades, but he felt Dave's eyes sweep over him. Without pausing for an answer, Dave hoisted himself up onto the bench beside John.

"Nothing," John replied, casually handing Dave one of the sandwiches. He expected a snide, perceptive remark, or a comment on his poor sandwich-making skills, but instead all he heard was the sound of crunching. He opened his mouth to take the first bite of his own sandwich.

Dave chose that moment to ask another question. "Egbert, seriously, what's going on in your head right now?" John's mouth snapped shut and his teeth clicked together.

"Nothing," John repeated, making sure to take his time chewing his mouthful before elaborating. "Really, Dave, there's nothing to worry about. Not that cool guys like you ever get worried." He forced a smile and hastily took another bite.

Dave put the sandwich down to stop himself from throwing it at John. "That's great, man. So you're ready to talk about earlier?" he suggested, forcing as much fake brightness into his voice as he could without making it crack.

John winced. He'd been psyching himself up to deal with those thoughts, but now that they were being thrown in his face, he just wanted to run away again, to deal with it on his own terms. "I already told you, I'm not–"

"You kissed me," Dave interrupted. His voice was raised, but he wasn't yelling. He still held on to that smooth tone.

"So what?" John snapped. Why couldn't Dave just let him sort himself out?

"So that's pretty gay," Dave concluded, hopping down from the bench and facing John, their eyes almost level for once.

The overwhelming urge to kiss Dave suddenly washed over John. He wanted to grab him and kiss him passionately until the argument was all over. The image of himself pulling Dave in flashed through his mind and his face reddened. Despite that, he bit his tongue. "So what?" he repeated.

Dave took a step back to calm himself down. He huffed and in one swift motion, tore his shades from his face. Blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light, he stared directly at John. "I just want to know how you feel about me," he said quietly, feeling slightly vulnerable and anxiously flipping his shades in his hand.

"Isn't it obvious?" he mumbled, staring back into Dave's eyes. He never would have guessed that they were red. A lot of people would have been scared, but all John could think was that they were beautiful and they were looking at him.

"Fuck no," Dave scoffed with a vague gesture. "Seriously, dude, you're giving me all types of mixed signals here, and I thought I was being pretty clear with you."

John laughed nervously. "Well...I guess I like you, ok? I shouldn't, but I do," he admitted finally, feeling like some great weight had been lifted from his chest. "Can we shut up about it now?"

"Yup," Dave agreed, a grin spreading across his face. His next move was so fast, John could have sworn it was a flash step. Their lips came together and John's heart raced. This kiss felt more right than the first. There were no more confusing thoughts clouding his mind. It was just Dave's lips on his. "You're an idiot, you know," Dave mumbled teasingly, his face still close and his arms curling around John. "I mean, how hard was that to say?"

John closed his eyes, keeping silent. Pretty hard, actually. On different levels, he cared and he didn't care. If there had been a part of him before that had wanted to push Dave away, that part was gone now. Sure, he felt sick in his stomach when he thought about what he would say to his Dad, but it wasn't like his Dad was in the kitchen right then.

Almost as if Dave had picked up on his thoughts, he said, "We'll deal with the rest later." John opened his eyes again and tilted his head so he could look at Dave's irises. There was so much depth to them, so much more to Dave than he would ever admit.

Dave backed away, and John couldn't stop himself from making a desperate grab for the blonde's shirt. At Dave's laugh, his face flamed. "Relax," Dave said, smirking and reaching for his sandwich. "I just wanna finish eating before I wither away and you're left to sweep the Dave-dust off the kitchen tiles."

John's laugh made Dave's stomach flip, which probably wasn't such a good idea considering he was in the middle of filling it with food. He had to cram another mouthful in to stop himself from genuinely smiling at the messy haired boy sitting on the kitchen bench.

He couldn't even comprehend how relieved he was that he hadn't just fucked their entire friendship up. When he'd invited himself over, he'd had an inkling about what might go down (or at least what he'd wanted to go down), but he hadn't thought John would be so damn difficult to deal with. He thought he would've come to terms with his own inner bullshit by now, but apparently not.

Nothing was more frustrating than getting your feelings fucked over. But luckily, that wasn't the outcome here. After devouring his sandwich, he patted John's knee to get his attention. "I'm going to piss," he announced, partly because he didn't want John to stretch his shirt again, and partly because he felt weirdly obligated to.

John rolled his eyes, returning to his usual dorky self. "That's a lovely image. Thanks, Dave." His heart sank a little when Dave slid his shades back on, but he didn't protest. He was smart enough to understand that it would have taken Dave a lot just to take them off.

Dave figured it would be more convenient to use the downstairs toilet, provided the plumbing had been fixed since last time. He didn't want another repeat of that incident. As he was draining his bladder, the thought popped into his mind that Egbert might actually be imagining this. That amused and creeped him out at the same time. Following standard bathroom protocol, he flushed and washed his hands before returning to the kitchen.

Only to find that the bench had been wiped down both of crumbs and John. Realising that John must have retreated to the second floor, he tramped up the stairs after him. Poking his head in the doorway, he caught John's eye. John had claimed Dave's seat on the bed, leaning against the wall. He smiled and patted the spot beside him.

It took every fibre in Dave's being not to just leap onto the bed. He cleared his throat and claimed his position next to John, quirking his eyebrows at John's open hand invitation. Whenever John blushed, his usual response was to smirk. This time, he slipped his hand into the boy's and kissed his cheek lightly, feeling stupidly sentimental.

"You blush any harder and the blood vessels in your face are going to explode," he teased, hoping to redeem himself. John laughed and the smirk returned to Dave's face. He wriggled on the lumpy mattress and a jolt ran through his body when John rested his head on his shoulder. He glanced down and actually smiled, glad that John couldn't see him.

"Dave?" John asked after a moment. He felt a reassuring squeeze of his hand in reply, and he suddenly that made him realise that he'd been stupid to fight his feelings earlier. Who cared what other people thought? As long as Dave didn't hate him, he'd be fine. "Thank you," he muttered, closing his eyes. He didn't know what the time was, but he was still pretty sleepy.

Dave remained silent for a while, until he heard John's breathing slow, the sign that he'd fallen asleep. The smile was still on his face. "No need to thank me, idiot."

**A/N: Am I rushing things? Did this chapter make sense? I don't know. I'm trying to convey John's confusion about his feelings. A lot of people just make him all-out gay and forget that he clearly stated that he wasn't a homosexual. I wanted it to seem like he was sort of in denial, but coming to accept the fact. Sorry if it's awful!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Wow, I'm so sorry for the delay.**

Dave frowned, his hands hovering above his turntables. He'd spent the last half hour trying to mix a new song, but all he could hear in his head was a quiet piano refrain, which unfortunately didn't fit into what he was trying to create. Grumbling, he turned the system off and hung up his headphones. The music in his head was too loud and distracting, and kept conjuring up images of John's hands sliding across the black and white keys.

He perched in his desk chair and tapped his chin, deliberating over whether or not he should pester John. He understood that they boy probably still needed to sort his shit out and needed space or whatever, but he hadn't talked to him in a few days and he was starting to feel like maybe he'd done something wrong.

Double clicking on the icon, he opened Pesterchum and frowned. John wasn't even online. John was always online, but he wasn't online now. Why wasn't he online? He reconstructed his poker face, even though there was no one else around to see it, and swiftly typed a message to John.

20:15 turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]  
TG: i guess youre asleep or something  
TG: even though its not even late  
TG: you big pansy  
TG: but i did have a point in pestering you  
TG: are you busy this weekend

He waited another few moments, silently hoping that John was appearing invisible. Nope, he was offline. He was fucking offline. Dave didn't know why this upset him so much. It wasn't really a big deal. John had a life and occasionally did things, he knew that. It certainly wasn't the first time John hadn't responded immediately.

Without signing out, he sprawled his limbs over his bed, tilting his head to gaze out the window. Thanks to the dark tint of his shades, he couldn't see much, except the shape of what he assumed was a cat on the balcony next door.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes next, the sun was flipping him off. Grouchy, he peeled his clothes off and readied himself for school. Even though he wasn't running late, he left the apartment with a piece of toast in his mouth. He kept his pace leisurely, and forced himself to lament over the lack of cherry blossom trees. It was partly for the irony of it, and partly to mock his Bro.

Around lunchtime, he was suddenly aware that his phone was emitting a strange ringtone. With a mildly confused expression – _When the fuck did I even set that ringtone? _– he checked the caller ID. It was John.

"Hello," he answered immediately, realising that the ringtone was the phone's default. Usually, Bro was the only person who called him, and his phone played the My Little Pony theme.

"Hey, sorry about blowing you off." John's voice sounded unusually tired. Dave opened his mouth to utter some word of reassurance, but John continued talking. "I'm free this weekend, by the way."

"Cool," was the only word Dave could force himself to say. Clearing his throat, he repeated himself. "Cool." _Man, I'm making myself sound like such an ass. I wanted to talk to the guy and now I physically can't._

"Ok, so...cool," John agreed. "I'll talk to you tonight." He didn't pause to let Dave reply, instead hanging up with a jarring click. _What if he really is mad at me? Wait, he would have told me he'd busy if he was mad at me. God damn it, John. All these mixed fucking signals. I mean, still?_

18:53 ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]  
EB: sorry i'm late  
TG: actually there was no specified time  
TG: so youre not late at all  
TG: youre right on time  
TG: whatever that time happens to be  
EB: well that's good news  
EB: i mean i'd hate to seem rude to my boyfriend

Dave hadn't had a potty malfunction since he was two years old, and that was a fact he was very proud of. No bed-wetting for this blonde boy. No uncontrolled bowel movements for him. But he read that sentence and just about crapped his pants.

TG: is that what i am now

John shifted uncomfortably in his chair, biting his lip so hard he thought it would bleed. _That was such a stupid thing to say. Why am I so stupid?_ His hands were poised above his keyboard, shaking too heavily for him to be able to type his reply. He felt like he wanted to cry. He'd slowly been coming to terms with the way things were unfolding, and now he'd screwed up. He typed a reply and deleted it. He tried again. Deleted it.

TG: egbert  
TG: john  
TG: its ok

A shaky sigh exploded from John. It was ok.

EB: im sorry  
TG: i said its ok  
TG: i just wasnt expecting you to say that  
EB: me neither

Dave laughed to himself, running a hand through his hair. His body was shaking with laughter. _Man, oh man. Why is everything so complicated?_ Of course, he didn't really mean that. John had been his best bro for so many years. He knew better than anyone what a great guy John was. He knew he was worth all the trouble in the world.

TG: fyi ignoring me for three days is pretty rude  
EB: oh shit i forgot about that

John was laughing now too. _Has it really been three days? _He sniffled and wiped his nose, no longer in danger of crying. It was ok.

TG: so do i get an apology in the form of one of your dads excess cakes  
TG: hopefully one that you havent burnt this time  
EB: im really sorry about that  
EB: im a horrible

John stopped himself from typing, not wanting to throw the word around too flippantly.

TG: boyfriend  
TG: and no youre not

If things had been running more smoothly, Dave would have dragged this out, teased him a little more. But he knew now wasn't the time for monkey business like that. When dealing with the delicate feelings of others, you had to tell those damn monkeys to leave their briefcases at home. John obviously needed his support, and he wasn't going to be a banana about it. _That one didn't work too well._

EB: so this weekend's cool?  
TG: do you want me to say it again  
EB: that would be cool  
TG: yes this weekend is cool with me if its cool with you  
EB: its cooler than cool  
TG: cool

**A/N: There's a lot more pestering in this, because I kind of forgot what I was doing for a moment there. Sorry about that. Thanks again to everyone for the favourites and follows and reviews! You guys really make my day with that shit c:**


	5. Chapter 5

The TV was on and it was muted. For once, John had (unintentionally) woken up early enough to catch the news. The reporter was standing in front of a burnt-out building, visibly struggling to keep his face blank as he interviewed a crying woman. Headlines flashed across the bottom of the screen, along with the weather forecast. John wasn't really paying attention though.

His spoon was paused in mid-air, milk slowly dribbling back into his bowl. He really hated sugar-based cereals – the sweetness was just too overpowering for it to be a successful early-morning food – but his Dad insisted on buying them anyway. The kitchen cupboard was stocked with three different kinds; sweet, sweeter, and the worst. Forcing down another mouthful, he clicked a button on the TV remote to change the channel.

Fuzzy eyes glued to the TV, John was trying to coax himself out of "morning mode" and into reality. A hand ruffled his already messy hair, and it took him longer than he was proud of to realise his Dad was leaving for work. He turned to say goodbye with a mouthful of cereal, but the door was already closing behind the man. _Have a good day._

Cereal suddenly seemed three times more interesting than the info-commercial on the screen. John stared intently at his bowl, which was still half full, wishing fiercely that the contents would disappear in a way that didn't involve him having to eat them. But he was committed to this now. He'd filled the bowl, poured the milk, dug his own grave. A grave of cereal.

There was a knock on the door and John's prayers were answered. His cereal decided to end its pathetic life, committing suicide and jumping from his bowl to the couch, splattering milk across the cushions in its wake. He groaned loudly, wishing he'd just eaten it instead and running to get a tea towel. Okay, so maybe his prayers hadn't been answered. "Just a second!" he yelled to door.

Dave probably couldn't be considered a "patient guy." He heard John stalling for time, so he decided to knock again, louder this time. So loud it almost made his fist hurt. That was the kind of guy he was. He was a "knock on your door really hard guy."

"Jesus, just hold on, Dave! I'm having a cereal crisis here!" _At least he knows it's me._ Regardless of John's plea, Dave continued to knock on the door, beating the wood rhythmically. His knuckles actually made a pretty decent sound and if he'd had his equipment, he might have sampled it. He could imagine it now – a song entirely comprising of people knocking on doors.

"Dude!" John exclaimed, his tone slightly exasperated as he flung the door open without warning, halting Dave's red-knuckled fist mid-air. "Do you want to stop punching my house for a minute?" A goofy grin was quickly spreading across his face.

"Hi," Dave said, giving him a quick bro nod. _But we aren't really bros anymore. Is there such a thing as a boyfriend nod? Ooh, that sounds dirty._ Not waiting for an invitation, he barged past John, who scoffed at him.

"What? I don't even get a hug?" John asked, making his tone as whiny as possible. He would have turned on his puppy-dog eyes, but he'd learnt that they worked best when he wasn't wearing his glasses.

Dave stared him down for a moment, his face completely emotionless. "You want a hug?" he repeated slowly, seemingly tossing the idea around. "You've gotta pay upfront for that kind of hot action." From the tiny smirk on his face, it was obvious that he was joking, but he was surprised when Dave stayed standing where he was. John didn't really know what he'd been expecting. He knew Dave wasn't usually the hugging type, but he thought he might make an exception. Especially since now they were...boyfriends.

So they both sort of...stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do next. _Why does it have to be this awkward?_ Dave crossed and uncrossed his arms, clearing his throat. John was scratching the back of his head and avoiding his gaze, distracted by the movement on the TV, providing Dave with the perfect opportunity to closely study the boy.

Clumps of fluffy black hair framed his slightly flushed cheeks. Thick-rimmed glasses sat crookedly on his small, pointed nose, the glare from the lights slightly hiding his stunningly blue eyes. He was still in his baggy PJ's and he looked like someone who was still trying to wake up properly. _He's so cute._

"Dave?" John asked after a moment, trying to mask the uncertainty in his voice. The blonde's gaze was already on him, unwavering. Even with those dark shades, John knew Dave had been watching him watch TV just now. It made his stomach perform all kinds of ridiculous acrobatic stunts that disagreed with the sugary cereal.

"Hmm?" Dave murmured, smirking at the boy. He could feel the initial awkwardness fading into the background, becoming muted like the TV. John smiled at him, displaying a row of (almost perfect) teeth that were in surprisingly good condition considering the staple food of the Egbert household was cake. He could feel the air settling to a more comfortable temperature.

"Can I have that hug now?" John kept his voice quiet, in a better attempt to hide his nervousness. _I don't understand why I feel so nervous right now. It's just Dave. Yes, exactly! It's just Dave._ He grinned, confidence blooming in his chest, and closed the distance between them before Dave could even answer him. "Put it on my tab," he mumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy.

"I'll charge interest on that," Dave replied, adjusting his body against John's. He was warm and soft and he smelt like baked goods. Dave wanted to somehow absorb his heat and rub his face in his hair, but that would be too gay. He pulled back from the embrace, his hand tipping John's chin and their lips meeting, conducting even more heat. John sighed into the kiss, his arms tightening around him, not even realising what that did to Dave.

The movement of Dave's mouth was slow and gentle, as if he was operating with practiced ease, but there was something else in it that told John he didn't going around kissing just anyone. John hadn't kissed that many people, and he knew he'd never been really good at it. Truthfully, he felt kind of embarrassed and didn't want to be a disappointment, but Dave was a good enough kisser that it more than made up for his lack of experience. Besides, Dave didn't really seem to mind.

The blonde's hands slowly slid up John's back, feeling his shoulder blades under his skin and progressing up his neck. He tangled his slender fingers in John's hair, tugging slightly and greedily pulling him in closer. He carefully parted the boy's lips with his tongue. Every move he made had to be careful. He didn't want John to freak out again.

It was obvious that when Dave's tongue slid into his mouth, John really had no idea what to do. He sort of froze, all his muscles tensing. _Ah shit, I freaked him out._ Dave pulled back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

John swallowed, aware that a blush was spreading across his cheeks. He opened his mouth to apologise, but Dave shook his head slightly, indicating that there was no need to. He smiled and hugged him again, nuzzling into his neck. "Can we just watch a movie?"

"Anything but Con Air," Dave agreed, smiling behind John's back. _This is going to take some time._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I want to thank the people who reviewed this again and the people who've followed me! You guys are all so lovely!**

The TV was on and they'd forgotten to mute it. There was a gap between the curtains, where the sunlight crept in, painting a highlighted strip across the lounge room floor. Birds were gathering in the tree out the front, chattering to each other in a series of piercing chirps and tweets, but neither of the boys were awake to be irritated by it. It was the middle of the day, and they'd fallen asleep in the middle of Lord of War.

Dave was the first one to wake up around mid-afternoon. _Where'd this itchy-ass blanket come from?_ he wondered, kicking the heavy thing to the floor. _It's not even that cold. _He had a little difficulty, but he managed to manoeuvre his arm out from under John without jostling him too much. Shuffling into the kitchen for a glass of water, he noticed a brown package on the bench, a note resting on top of it. He couldn't help but read it.

SON,

I CAME HOME TO DROP OFF SOME MAIL. THERE WAS A PACKAGE FOR YOU.

I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN WITH YOUR FRIEND.

DAD.

Placing the note back on the package, two thoughts immediately leapt to Dave's mind: _I wonder what the package is?_ and _Holy shitting fuck! Does that mean! John's Dad! Saw us cuddling! On the couch!_ Neither of these things could be easily answered, and they both involved waking John up, so he yanked the curtains right open, angry-late-for-work-single-mother-of-a-teenage-boy style.

John grumbled in his sleep, rolling over and shielding his eyes from the sun with his arm. In his half asleep state, he could tell that the spot next to him had been warm but now it was cold. Something felt like it was missing. Some muffled words floated over from somewhere, and his groggy mind grasped at the edges of them, trying to make sense of it all. _John. Yes, John is here. I am John._

Dragging him from the couch by the ankle wouldn't do any good; they'd both seen that Paranormal Activity movie. Dave pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. _There's really only one thing for it, _he concluded, jumping up onto the couch, feet planted either side of John. "Wake up!" Dave sang. "Wake up, wake up!" John's flailing, confused hands tried to shove him away, but he held onto the back of the worn couch to steady himself, his bouncing becoming more and more violent.

"I'm awake, Dave!" John said, his voice thick from sleep. "Get off me!" Apparently satisfied that John wouldn't fall asleep again, Dave clambered down from the couch. John sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked, squinting in the unwelcome sunlight.

Dave wasn't even giving him the chance to wake up properly before tossing the brown package at John. "Open it, open it!" He considered clapping his hands, but it wasn't like it was John's birthday or anything.

"There's a note...from my Dad," John mumbled, confused. Frowning, he knew there were some words written on the piece of paper he held in his hands, but he couldn't get his brain to register what they meant. "What's it say?" he asked, waving it around and assuming Dave had already read it.

"How should I know?" Dave replied with a shrug that was a little too innocent. John stared at him blankly for a moment, waiting for the confession. Dave shrugged again. "Something about you finally having friends."

John began to tear into the package, feeling more and more awake with every piece of tape he unstuck. He carefully removed the brown paper to reveal a bright green box. "It must be from Jade!" he exclaimed excitedly, now wide awake. _No one else I know can stand this shade of green! I wonder what it is!_

Dave watched as John clapped his hands gleefully, like a little kid with a birthday present. _So much for that._ "Hurry up and open it," he said, planting his butt on the couch beside John. He didn't weigh much, but the couch sagged beneath him and creaked in protest and he leant over to steal the box from John, who held it twisted to hold it teasingly out of his reach, in the same way he'd done with the TV remote when John had wanted to watch Becker.

"It's my present," John said, putting on his overly patient voice and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "And I'm going to open it, Dave. Me, not you." He resistant the strong urge to throw the lid over the back of the couch, instead lifting it slowly, dragging it out, savouring the moment.

Dave's hand whipped forward like the bad-ass ninja he was and knocked the lid out of John's hand. They both stared at the contents of the box. "Is this Harley's idea of a joke?" Dave asked, his tone flat. He took the box from John's hands, which were limp from disappointment. The pain was etched into the features of his face. Dave could tell he'd been hoping for dinosaur bones or some shit, but instead...

He tipped the box upside down, the contents spilling over the stout coffee table. _Twenty packets of tomato sauce._ _What the fuck?_

John laughed quietly. "I guess it's a pretty good joke, huh?" He hadn't asked Jade to send him anything anyway, so he wasn't really that disappointed, more confused than anything. What did he want with twenty packets of tomato sauce? Dave was already tearing one open with his teeth. "Dave, what are you-?"

Gently slapping John's face, Dave smeared a line of tomato sauce across his cheek. "It looks like the shitty blood they used in Snake Eyes," he commented, a smirk on his lips.

"You're knowledge of The Cage's films is actually pretty impressive," John replied, grinning and reaching for another packet to retaliate with. "Maybe you've watched more than you'd like to admit."

"Maybe I have," Dave said, ducking away from John's tomato sauce covered hand. _This is so stupid. Why is it so much fun?_ He had to keep himself from all-out grinning as John swiped at him again, getting sauce on his collar. "Dude, you've got a little something on your face," he teased, planning on cleaning it off with his tongue.

As Dave stepped closer, John was able to pap him on the face, managing to cram some sauce in his mouth and up his nose. Dave started laughing and wrapped an arm around John's waist. John's initial reaction was to _get away_, but then he realised Tomato Sauce Play Time was over.

Nuzzling into the hug, John absent-mindedly hoped he hadn't gotten too much sauce on his clothes. Or maybe that was exactly what he was hoping for. The chance to take his clothes off with Dave in the vicinity. His heart skipped a beat. Ok, maybe that wasn't _exactly_ what he was hoping for. He wasn't really sure, but hugging Dave was nice.


End file.
